by M. Z. Kelly
“We need to talk,” I said, rushing over to their side with Bernie. “We can either do that here or at the station.”
“What’s this about?” Carly said. “We’ve already told you everything we know.”
“This is about a homicide and three girls who are still missing. And we’re running out of time to find them.”
She glanced over at Quinton who exhaled and said, “Let’s find a place to talk.”
We found a couple of benches under some pepper trees, about a hundred yards from the funeral chapel. Most of the mourners had left by the time I let Bernie sniff his way through some tall grass for a couple of minutes and we settled in.
I began, playing bitch to Buck’s softer persona, as we’d previously arranged. “I’ll cut right to the chase,” I said to Lucia. “We know about your background, your relationship with Clay Aster.”
“What are you talking about?” She’d pushed back the veil, revealing a heavily made up face with lots of liner and violet shadow that matched her eyes.
“Marlena Aster said that you broke up her marriage to Clay.”
Lucia laughed, maybe a little too loudly. “Her marriage ended because she was a drug addict, compulsive spender, and the bitch of the century.”
“What do you mean by drug addict?”
“She’s got a string of doctors who prescribe anything she wants. She’s a pill head who hasn’t been sober in years. Clay finally had his fill of her and filed for divorce. As Hal previously told you, Marlena didn’t take it very well.”
“She made Clay’s life miserable for years,” Quinton confirmed, his eyes blinking beneath his wire-rimmed glasses. Aster’s assistant then checked his watch, not looking at me.
“We know about your background,” Buck said to Carly, giving up what we’d learned from one of his snitches earlier in the day. He twirled his hat in his hand as he went on, “Your arrest for soliciting in Santa Monica.”
Aster’s former secretary hissed out a breath. “It’s not something I’m proud of. I was going through a rough patch a few years back and needed money.”
“And being a whore was the only way you could think of to make ends meet,” I said, laying it on thick.
“I just had a few high end clients. As I said I wasn’t proud…”
“I’ll bet,” I said. “Is that how you met Clay, eventually became his secretary?”
Her voice pitched up. “I won’t lie. Clay did represent me after my arrest and he eventually hired me. He helped me during a very dark time in my life.”
“And you returned the favor, helping him out and at the same time destroying his marriage.”
She laughed in that controlled way again. “As I said, Marlena ended their marriage. I might have had an affair with Clay but I had nothing to do with ending the marriage.”
I studied them both, deciding there was a lot they weren’t telling us, as Buck said, “You both need to level with us. We know that Clay Aster was a sex addict, had relationships with lots of women. We need to know if any of those women might have wanted him dead.”
Quinton took over. It crossed my mind that maybe he was afraid Carly would reveal something out of anger. I just wasn’t sure what that might be. “As you requested, I made a list of subjects who might have…maybe one of them had issues with Clay. You can stop by the office for it later today. That’s the best I can do. As I said before, there’s no one specific that comes to mind who was a threat.”
We left Quinton and Lucia after going at them for the better part of an hour. During that discussion we’d gone over Aster’s ties to The League motorcycle gang, not getting anything useful.
“They’re covering something up,” I said to Buck as we got in his car.
“Maybe lots of somethings.”
“We’re running out of time. The chances of finding those girls…” Images of finding Sissy and her friend’s bodies moved through my mind. “We’ve got to catch a break.”
“I talked to Julie Spencer a little while ago. She and Baxter should have the warrant for Aster’s house tomorrow.”
“Bout time.” I studied him for a moment as he drove and decided to move our conversation in a different direction. “So tell me something. What’s Julie Spencer’s story?”
“Recovering from a messy divorce, been on the island a little over a year.” He glanced at me. “From what I heard, Baxter tried to hook up with her and it didn’t go well.”
I laughed. “She’s not my favorite person but I would think she can do better than her partner.” What I wanted to ask him is if Julie had hit on him but decided to keep my big mouth shut.
“My daddy once said it doesn’t take a genius to spot a goat in a flock of sheep.” He smiled, met my eyes with those blue diamonds that melted me. “What are you doing tonight?”
His question came out of nowhere, making my heart thump against my ribcage. “You asking me to dinner, Buck?”
He laughed, deflating my spirits. “Thought we might set up on Carly’s house. See if our lady in mourning does anything interesting in her spare time.” He smiled. “We don’t got much else going on, anyway.” His smile grew wider. “Tell you what, I’ll bring us a thermos of coffee and some sandwiches.”
My spirits were crushed but I agreed to what he proposed. We drove on, discussing the fact that we had no leads, including nothing on Sissy’s supposed boyfriend, Josh. Just before we got to the station my phone rang.
“It’s your favorite undertaker,” I heard a voice say.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Roth?”
“Peter, please. I’ve found a girl at the detention center who roomed with Sissy and the other girls. We could go by there this evening if you’re free, maybe even have dinner later.”
“I’ll see you at six,” I said, after making it clear I had other plans and wasn’t going to dinner with him. He reminded me that Natalie and I still owed him a favor as I ended the call.
As I put my phone away Buck said, “Sounds like you two are getting pretty chummy.”
“Yeah. I’ve always had a thing for randy lawyers who sleep in coffins and hide out from bookies.”
***
Bernie and I met Peter Roth that evening in the parking lot of the Avalon Juvenile Justice Center. It was a red-tiled white-washed building in a small complex a couple of blocks from the courthouse. Roth had cleaned himself up, combed his hair, and even wore a sports coat. Only a fellow vampire would know that he slept in a coffin.
“I see you survived the brick throwing incident and still have all your fingers,” I said after getting out of my car.
He smiled. “You should see the scars.” The smile grew wider. “I’d be happy to show them to you later.”
“Better keep your shirt on or I might have to drive a stake through your heart.”
We checked in with a receptionist who told us that Bernie needed to wait outside while we conducted our interview. I made arrangements with one of the detention officers to walk him in the yard before returning to the justice center.
“The girl’s name is Gloria Holquin,” Roth said as we walked down the corridor and heard the mechanical whir of doors locking and unlocking. “She’s a trustee serving her detention time here, rather than on the mainland.”
We found Holquin already in the interview room. She had stringy bleached blonde hair and was emaciated. It took one look for me to know she was a meth-user.
Our interview room overlooked the interior of the detention complex and an enclosed yard. There were a few girls milling about in the courtyard as I let Roth begin questioning the girl.
“We’re here Gloria, because we understand that you roomed with some girls who are no longer here.” He gave her their names.
“The ones who were kidnapped?” she said, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers.
Roth nodded. “We’re trying to find them and could use anything you can tell us about the girls.”
“I spent most of my time with Maddie,” she said. “We were ki
nd of alike.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Just that we…our parents…” She took a moment to gather her thoughts, crossing and uncrossing her arms. “We both had problems at home. Maddie wasn’t very happy like me.”
Roth went on, “Did she tell you anything about the boy who was killed? His name was Derek Shaw.”
“She just said something about him trying to rape her. They had a fight and the gun went off. It was an accident.”
“What about the other girls?” I asked. “Did you talk to them?”
“Just Sissy. The other one…umm…”
“Clara?”
“Yeah. She was pretty quiet.”
“What did Sissy have to say?”
“She and Maddie were pretty close. She said she lived in some kind of old people’s home where her mom worked. She hated it.”
“Did she ever mention having a boyfriend?”
Gloria nodded. “I think it was more than that. She told me she was in love.”
“Really?” I glanced at Roth, back at her. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“She wanted to get married…when she finished school.”
So much for Sissy not having a boyfriend, waiting until she was older. “Did Sissy ever mention Josh’s last name, maybe something like Robinson or Robertson.”
“Yeah but I think it was Robbings or Robbins, something like that. I remember because his name reminded me of robbing someone. That’s why I’m in here.”
“Did she ever mention where Josh lived or went to school?”
She shook her head, did a hair twist. “I think he’s older. She said something about him working on cars.”
I nodded, thinking at least we had something more solid on Sissy’s boyfriend. After Gloria said that Sissy didn’t mention anything else about her boyfriend or her pending case, I asked her some follow-up questions about Maddie and Derek Shaw.
“Were Maddie and Derek in a relationship?”
She shook her head. “Maddie said she got drunk that night when they were in the park and things got out of hand. I don’t think she really liked Derek.”
“Why is that?” Roth asked.
“Maddie said he was a wingman.”
“A what?” Roth asked.
He’d probably never heard the term before, but having worked the streets of Hollywood for a number of years, what she’d said sent a wave of dread through me for Sissy and the other girls.
“Derek was looking for girls,” Gloria explained. “He was a wingman, a recruiter for someone.”
Roth glanced over at me, apparently still in confusion about what Gloria was trying to tell him. He looked back at the girl. “This recruiter, what did he want with the girls?”
Gloria’s brow furrowed, maybe in surprise that Roth didn’t know what she had meant. “He wanted the girls for sex.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After leaving the detention center I met Buck at the station at eight and he drove us to Carly Lucia’s house. The secretary, aka prostitute, lived in a condo in the hills above Avalon.
Buck had gone by Clay Aster’s law office earlier and picked up Hal Quinton’s list of subjects who he felt the attorney might have had conflict with over the years. He’d said none of the individuals looked promising for having murdered the attorney.
We pulled to the curb, noticing that it was an upscale place with a pool, an outdoor fireplace, and courtyards. Carly lived upstairs in what looked like might be the penthouse unit. Buck killed the headlights and we settled in.
“I think I’ve got an address for the Robbins kid you mentioned when you called,” he said. “Lives over on Hoover with his mother. It’s a high crime area. We can check it out in the morning.”
Before leaving the detention center, Gloria Holquin had decided that Sissy’s boyfriend’s last name was Robbins and Buck had done a records check on him. “I didn’t know Avalon had a high crime area.”
“It’s all relative. A few junkies, dealers, some of the island low life.”
I’d already filled him in on what we’d learned at the detention center but felt the need to process the information. “If what Gloria Holquin told Roth and me is true, Sissy and her friends could already be off the island, involved in the sex trade.” Just the thought of that possibility and Mo’s sister finding out about it deflated my spirits.
“All we can do is hope that hasn’t happened yet, try and catch a break.”
We chatted aimlessly for a few minutes, watching as people came and went, but not seeing any sign of Lucia. As the night wore on, I decided that I needed to know more about my new partner. “We’re probably in for a long night, so I’m ready for that long story.”
His brow furrowed. “Long what…oh yeah. You mean how I got from Laredo to Catalina.”
I nodded.
He took a minute, removing his Stetson, and running a hand through his short brown hair. His blue eyes seemed to turn inward for a moment. I wasn’t sure if what I was going to hear would be good.
“Let me shorten the long story up just a bit.” He paused, releasing a breath, and went on, “I fell in love with a girl in high school. Colleen and I got married a year out of school. We were too young. It eventually fell apart when I went into the army and served a couple of tours in Iraq. When I got discharged, life in Laredo didn’t seem quite the same to me.
“I have an uncle who works patrol out of Malibu. I decided I needed a change of scenery and stayed with him for a while. I eventually applied for a job with the sheriff’s department.” He smiled, his blue eyes surfacing from the past. “I heard there was an opening here on the island about three years ago. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“And Colleen? Where did she end up?”
“Not sure. She moved around a lot after the divorce and I lost track.” His gaze moved off. “I just hope she’s happy.” He turned back to me. “Your turn.”
“My life story? He nodded. “You’d better hope Carly is snug in her bed. This might take a while.”
I spent the next hour, telling him everything—well almost everything. I started with college, went on to talk about how my divorce had left me penniless and living above Natalie’s ex-husband’s appliance store for a time. I then explained about Natalie and Mo being my roommates.
“We also live with a transsexual named Prissy who owns a bondage store called, Voodoo Mama,” I said. “And then there’s our landlord. Nana’s eighty-something and is on a clinical trial for a sexual rejuvenation drug.”
He laughed for almost a full minute, tugging on his earlobe. “Somebody once said, don’t judge people by their friends or their relatives. Next to yours, my life is about as boring as Sunday school.”
I smiled, imitated a huckster in one of those infomercials. “Wait, there’s more.” I then went on about my father being gunned down by a madman in Griffith Park when I was a little girl, how my adoptive mom had never told me that his killer’s former girlfriend was my birthmother. I then finished my life story, explaining how my father’s killer had gunned down and killed my former boyfriend and had also tried to kill me.
“The only good thing to come out of all that is I learned that I had a half-sister. Lindsay saved my life. I’m just starting to get to know her.” I felt drained by the time I’d finished.
This time, there was a long silence between us. I was thinking that maybe my life story had left him shell shocked, unable to express what he was thinking. Finally, he drew in a breath and said, “I think you’re pretty amazing, Kate.”
“I’m just…” My gaze drifted off and I thought about what Joe Dawson, an FBI agent I’d recently worked with had said about us both being resilient. “…a survivor. I try to put one foot in front of the other and carry on.” My eyes found him again. “Sometimes I think that’s all you can do in life. Make the best out of the hand that’s been dealt.” My father came to mind as my thoughts drifted to an imaginary conversation I’d had with him after my emotional breakdown following
Jack’s death.
“Now you’re starting to talk like somebody from Texas.” He scratched his jaw. “Maybe we need to ride horses one of these days. There’s a trail above the ocean that’s…”
“Carly,” I said, at the same time wishing that I’d waited for him to finish. The thought of riding horses on an ocean trail with him was more than a little intriguing. I refocused. “She’s heading for her car.”
We watched as Lucia came downstairs and got into a black BMW. She left the parking lot at a high rate of speed.
“This should be interesting,” Buck said, pulling onto the road with his headlights off.
We followed her for about fifteen minutes before she pulled up in front of a nightclub called, Red. She hurried inside like she was late.
“Let’s give her five, go in, and try to keep a low profile,” Buck said.
As it turned out we didn’t have to go into the club. Carly came out less than five minutes later with a middle aged man. They were in a heated discussion as Buck recognized him.
“Harvey Brill. He’s a defense attorney.” He scratched his head. “Wait a minute. I seem to recall someone, maybe it was Julie, telling me that Aster used to work with Brill.”
The argument ended abruptly with Carly slapping Brill, getting into her Beamer and roaring off. We followed her back to her condo.
“Let’s go have a little talk,” Buck said as we parked. “It’s time Carly told us what’s really going on.”
We intercepted her after she left the parking garage and was headed upstairs. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
“That’s what we’re here to find out.” Buck motioned to her penthouse apartment. “Let’s go have a little chat.”
Carly’s apartment was white, as in white floors, walls, ceilings, and furniture. It was so spotlessly white that I wondered if during the daytime you’d have to wear sunglasses inside. The unit overlooked Avalon and the harbor beyond.
After pouring herself a drink, Carly came over to the white sofa where Buck laid things out for her. “Harvey Brill and Clay Aster used to be law partners. It looked to us like you and Brill aren’t happy with one another. We need to know the facts, all of them.”